


Warning: Contains Three Idiots

by Tomatosoupful



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, M/M, Meant to be fun have a laugh, Multi, OT3, Romance, Three Idiots Coming Together, Well one of them is smart, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatosoupful/pseuds/Tomatosoupful
Summary: OT3 - Ernesto/Héctor/ImeldaImelda has a crush on a cute tall boy and she would like to get to know him. It would be easier if SOMEONE didn't keep getting in the way.





	Warning: Contains Three Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> YO! Yeah, I'm re-posting this cause of complications with my writing and shit. Not a big deal. 
> 
> Contains: My attempt at comedy, not historically accurate at all when it comes to sexuality and gender, swearing. Buckle up peeps, have some fun.

Even after spending a good two hours in front of the mirror, Imelda was still displeased with her appearance. At first, her Mamá was delighted her little girl was finally making an effort, after sixteen long years dismissively ignoring talks on fashion and jewellery. Now, Imelda was rubbing her wrist after she was dragged out of her bedroom by her impatient Mamá. Even for beauty, Imelda’s parents would rather argue with the Devil than turn up late to a party.

The party they were attending was in celebration of Imelda’s cousin’s engagement. No one ever had any doubt the pretty girl would land a man worthy of sharing the family name. Unfortunately for Imelda, her Mamá and Papá weren’t so confident in her future partner. Not that Imelda really cared for the bachelors currently offering themselves and their dignity.

No, Imelda had ever so  _stupidly_  decided to fall for the dumbest (but cutest) man on the planet. Who hopefully was going to be here tonight. She didn’t spend two hours in her room trying dress after dress, and experimenting with her hair, for nothing. She was going to win this dumb boy’s heart tonight.

Upon entering the large home, Imelda’s younger twin brothers disappeared into the crowd before their Papá could stop them. “Boys!  _Boys!_ ” her Papá yelled, chasing after them. “Don’t touch that!”

Imelda heard glass shatter.

She sidestepped away from her Mamá, readying a prepared answer for the inevitable incoming question.

“And where are you going?”

“To look for Josefina,” Imelda lied. Her Mamá always had time for the sweet-natured girl and her respectable family. Just as she planned, Mamá looked pleased however it only took a second for her eyes to narrow.

“Just Josefina?”

“Yes, Mamá.”

“Fine. Off you go. See if you can muster enough grace to talk with Carlos and –”

Imelda did not catch the rest of her Mamá’s sentence, partly because it was difficult to hear over the loud guests, but also because she could easily guess the rest.  _No_ , she did not want to talk to Carlos, her parents’ favourite among the men lining up for Imelda’s hand. He was always quick to interrupt Imelda and explain to her why everything she said was completely wrong. Even though it wasn’t.

No, Carlos was a bore. Who she wanted to talk to was probably outside in the gardens. Imelda apologised when she bumped against an older lady as she eagerly ran through the dining room towards the open back door.

Outside, the leftover summer’s heat mingled with the cool evening air. It brought a sense of calmness to Imelda as she moved off the balcony and towards the sound of music. The closing guitar solo was played with confidence as it was guaranteed a satisfied audience. Imelda couldn’t see the musician at the centre of the surrounding crowd, but she didn’t need to. She could picture him already. Tall, wild dark hair, and eyes so bright with enthusiasm and passion that Imelda was drawn to them like a flower to the sun. On one hand, she felt like a foolish child around him. On the other, simply talking to him made all those confusing feelings worth it.

The song ended and the crowd clapped. Imelda finally reached the musician and her smile fell.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Pleasure to see you too,” Ernesto muttered.

Imelda sighed. Forget Carlos. Ernesto was the last person she wanted to deal with. “Where’s Héctor?”

Ernesto frowned, bothered that his show was put on hold. “He’s ill. Couldn’t get here.”

Disappointment and worry drowned her previous upbeat attitude. “What? What’s wrong with him? Has a doctor come to see –?”

“– I’m joking,” Ernesto said with a smirk. “Said he wanted a drink.”

His laughter was joined by the crowd but with a swift kick to the shins, it turned into a shout of pain and groans of sympathy. Imelda stormed away, not impressed  _at all_. One minute of Ernesto was the only dosage of communication Imelda could deal with, and that was only if the both of them were in a pleasant mood. What she needed was a real musician to cheer her up.

After some searching, Imelda finally spotted a familiar face atop a sea of heads. Not that Imelda could boast, but an impressive height was more beneficial than not. “Héc –!” Imelda’s call was cut off when an irritating familiar face slid between her and the man she actually wanted to see.

“Imelda, what a pleasure to see you again,” Carlos greeted.

“Pleasure,” Imelda mumbled, bunching her skirt in her fists. “Listen, Carlos, I –”

Aaaaaand he was off. Imelda slouched as Carlos’ numerous words washed over her. She wondered if the universe was out to ruin her chances with Héctor. She held up a hand and dismissively said, “Yes, I heard you the fifth time.” Imelda was being kind, it was actually the eighth. “Look, I’m a little –”

“– and then, you can come round and we can –”

“–  _Carlos_ , I am a little busy –”

“– and after that, I can take you to this tavern and I’m sure you’ll love it. I know you will –”

Oh my god.

Before Imelda could snap and tell Carlos to just shut up already, a glimmer of hope appeared in the form of “Héctor!”

Héctor took her hand and dragged her along, yelling back to a befuddled Carlos, “Sorry! The lady needs a refreshment and a dance. Spare her!”

Imelda knew she was probably going to get in trouble for going along with Héctor’s antics when Carlos undoubtedly told her Mamá what happened, but she didn’t care. She picked up her speed and ran further and further away, taking the time to enjoy the feeling of Héctor’s hand in hers. When they found a room with only a few guests quietly sharing drinks, the two snickered like school children passing notes under the table.

Her cheeks aching from smiling, Imelda said, “ _Thank you_. I could have been there all night.”

Imelda behaved like a respectable lady on the outside but swooned when Héctor gave her a cheeky grin as he teased, “But it looked like such a riveting conversation. Surely you were just itching to talk to him?”

Imelda lightly smacked the boy’s shoulder and snorted. “If I could get a word in. No, no,  _you_ talk to him and we’ll see if he knows how to hold a conversation with men at the very least.”

Héctor shrugged. “Don’t need to. He talked with Ernesto once.”

She imagined how it went. With a smug smile, Imelda said, “Once?”

Nodding and snickering again, Héctor said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ernesto so frustrated before or since. Carlos told him he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life and, well, let’s say we nearly lost a guitar that day and Carlos should consider himself lucky his face isn’t caved in.”

Imelda wished she had been there to see it. “What about you?”

“Eh, Carlos doesn’t even see me.”

 _How???_ Imelda had encountered this mindboggling question plenty of times since the both of them had grown beyond their childish age. It seemed like everyone in Santa Cecelia was blind to Héctor except for her (and one other person, unfortunately).

Now that the two of them were in the midst of a nice simple conversation, it was the perfect time to strike. To do  _something_! Palms pressed together, Imelda tried to calm her nerves as she said, “Héctor, I was thinking, why don’t we head down to the plaza tomorrow? The market’s on. We can buy stuff and …eat…talk …?”

_And we could go dancing and please oh please maybe you could kiss me._

“Tomorrow?” Héctor repeated, holding his wrist as he thought.

The next few seconds shouldn’t have Imelda’s heart beating like crazy because she knew Héctor was only trying to remember if he was required to perform tomorrow, but that didn’t stop her from breaking out in a nervous sweat.

“Sure!” Héctor answered. “We’d love to come tomorrow.”

Imelda’s mood went from 100 to 0 in a split second. She knew what ‘we’ meant. “…Oh. You’re – uh – bringing Ernesto along?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we?”

 _Fuck_ , Imelda thinks before saying with a forced smile, “But Ernesto’s so busy lately. Surely he’ll be too tired to turn up tomorrow.”

Héctor rolled his eyes. “Are we talking about the same Ernesto? He always has time for the plaza.”

She knows this and she hates it.

Héctor waved her along, “Come on, let’s go ask him.”

“Yes, lets.”  _Please, no_.

Glumly, Imelda followed after Héctor and they moved through the party back to the garden. Imelda considered anything and  _everything_ she could say or do to keep Ernesto as far away as possible from what was supposed to be a special outing with Héctor tomorrow. She came up with three useless half-plans by the time Ernesto’s stupid face was in front of hers again. She maintained a look of polite cheeriness as Héctor gave her a grin before giving away precious details. With Héctor’s attention on his friend, Imelda’s smile fell, and irritation settled on her features. Ernesto noticed her over Héctor’s shoulder.

Their eyes met. Ernesto’s smile grew, and Imelda knew she was fucked.

“Sure! Of course, I can come. What do you take me for?”

She vowed to destroy him one day. 

“Great!” Héctor said, a warm content little sun lodged between two thunder storms shooting lightning at each other.

A sun as warm as he always attracted life so when Héctor was busy answering questions from a curious group of youngsters about his guitar, Imelda and Ernesto glared at each other. Even though Imelda knew it was a hopeless, she asked anyway, “Do you  _have_  to come tomorrow?”

Ernesto smirked. “Course I do. Last thing I need is you distracting Héctor.”

“Distracting him?” Imelda repeated, crossing her arms.

“ _Sí._ We got big plans. I can’t let you ruin them.”

“Oh?” Imelda asked, exaggerating her curious tone. “Is that your excuse? I thought it was something a bit more …intimidate?”

Ernesto glared darkly.

Before Imelda could speak further or attempt to steal Héctor away for the rest of the night, Ernesto shoved her away and made an announcement to the crowd, asking what song they’d love to hear next. Soon, the musical pair were entertaining the party with their (Héctor’s, Imelda insisted) songs. While Imelda couldn’t decide if she was eager for tomorrow anymore, Héctor did give her a cute little wave when he spotted her and that left her pleased for now.

And besides, Ernesto was always late (too busy perfecting his hair) so at least Imelda could have some time with Héctor alone before he arrived and then she could make her move.

~o0o~

“Isn’t it great that Ernesto finally decided to show up on time?”

“Fantastic,” Imelda muttered.

Ernesto wore the widest fucking grin she’d ever seen her life, while she was completely opposite …almost. Before she left, Felipe had measured the tiny curl of her lips with a ruler and proclaimed that, while lacking in effort, she still reached the lowest standard of what counted as a smile. Imelda had thumped him on the head for that. Oscar had huffed in disagreement and said, “That’s only a smile if you’re passing wind.”

Between the two of them, Felipe got off lightly.

But  _whatever_ , Imelda could barely muster the strength to smile at Ernesto but with one glance from Héctor, she had to fight to hold back a big stupid grin. That was what mattered. So, Imelda smiled with ease as she walked alongside Héctor. At first, she thought being in the plaza’s line of direction would ensure Héctor’s eyes would be on her, then she realised she’d made a mistake. Never one to waste time, Ernesto began talking incessantly, grabbing Héctor’s attention like a dog to a bone, using whatever was being sold in the market on his side to spark a conversation. Feeling like the third wheel to what was supposed to be  _her_  outing, Imelda did the only thing she could do.

When Héctor was busy brightening a vendor’s morning with his sunny attitude, Imelda kicked Ernesto’s shin again.

As Ernesto grunted and swore, Imelda dove in and directed the conversation elsewhere.

“ _Sooo_  Héctor, how is your new song coming along?”

Caught between helping Ernesto and answering Imelda, Héctor smiled awkwardly. He patted Ernesto on the arm as he said, “It’s – um, it’s good. I want to try writing quieter songs, but Ernesto keeps insisting on loud ones for parties.”

Imelda placed her hands on her hips. “How rude of him. He’d be nothing without your song writing. He should let you do whatever you want.”

“Oh! Um…” Héctor’s cheeks flushed pink, sheepishly shrugging at Ernesto’s glare. Imelda guessed correctly a compliment from her was worth bruising Ernesto’s ego.

“I’m right here,” grumbled the bruised ego. Ernesto rubbed his shin and straightened. “It’s not my fault everyone like party songs. If we’re going to make it big we have to get people excited, not put them to sleep.”

Imelda inspected her fingers. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Ernesto’s glared coldly at her and she returned it with equal intensity. Héctor cleared his throat. “Oh look! Musicians. Dancing. Why don’t we …do that?”

As Héctor so plainly described, there were townsfolk dancing to upbeat music in the middle of the plaza. It didn’t escape Imelda’s notice that the dance called for couples. Judging by Ernesto’s grimace, he knew it too. Imelda held out her hand to Héctor. “Shall we then?”

Héctor flushed again. “Really? I thought you’d want to dance with Ernesto?”

No.

 _No_.

 _Díos mio_ **_no_** __.

Imelda felt something in her mind crack. Beside her, Ernesto spluttered. “As if I want to risk breaking my toes!”

Imelda gasped, insulted and jabbed her finger into Ernesto’s chest. “You think I’d even let your grubby hands touch me? Get out of my sight. Come on, Héctor! Let’s go.”

“Wait, Wait!”

Imelda didn’t let Héctor wait. She took his hand and dragged him away. Her foul mood soured the joyful dancing scene too much to indulge in the activity. Muttering the excuse that her Mamá wanted flowers, Imelda brought Héctor to a flower cart, hoping she could give the young man enough clues to make a move already.

“What’s your favourite flower?”

Héctor searched through the pile. He found what he was looking for and went to point. “That –”

“– The sunflower,” Ernesto shoved his face in-between Héctor’s and Imelda’s. “What a shame you don’t know that –”

“– Ow, ow! Imelda!”

“Sorry!” Imelda released Héctor’s hand, which she had accidentally crushed in her building frustration. She seethed at the pleased expression on Ernesto’s face. Everything was going  _wrong_  and the little smile Felipe claimed she had was not destined to last long at this rate. She quickly got the vendor’s attention and asked for a batch of sunflowers.

“Imelda, you don’t have to.”

“Please, just let me,” Imelda almost begged. Héctor’s smile made Ernesto shift uncomfortably.

Imelda’s worries however only increased when the vendor returned with an extra batch of flowers alongside the sunflowers. “I didn’t ask for the dahlia. Just the sunflowers please.”

The vendor gestured to a sign on his right. “Sorry senorita. It’s part of our special deal. Sunflowers go with the dahlias.”

She read the sign and still wasn’t pleased. “That costs more.”

“Only slightly,” answered the vendor.

“That’s still more.  _Please_ , I just want the sunflowers.”

She only got a shrug. “I’m sorry. It’s part of our daily special.”

What kind of special was this? Imelda could hear the blood rushing through her ears. “I don’t want – I just –!” she sighed roughly, then spotted another bunch of far prettier flowers. “Can I replace the dahlias with the jacarandas, please?”

“No. Only the dahlia.”

“But – But –?!”

“Didn’t you hear the man?” Ernesto sneered, leaning on Héctor’s and Imelda’s shoulders, his voice annoyingly loud. “You can’t have the sunflower without the dahlia. Get over it.”

It was a stroke of luck on the vendor’s part that Imelda’s glower was pointed at Ernesto, for its shear molten hot anger would have killed every flower in half of second had they been subjected to it. And though Ernesto had the bravery of a fool, he still took a step back, using Héctor as a shield. Only Héctor’s visible concern had any effect on Imelda. It brought her fury from 100 out of 100 to 90, which may not sound like much, but because of this, Imelda was capable of handing the money to vendor in a civilised manner rather than throwing it.

What she threw instead were the extra unwanted dahlias into Ernesto’s face before storming off, the bundle of sunflowers squeezed in her arms. She heard Héctor calling her name and picked up the pace, searching for an alleyway to hide in and burn out all of frustrations. This plan began working immediately, thanks to the shade shielding her from the harsh sunlight. In her clearer and calmer state (now at 80 out of 100), Imelda noticed she had squeezed the sunflower rods too tightly. She sank against the brick wall, closed her eyes and hopelessly concluded that the day had not even properly started but it might as well already be over.

“Imelda! There you are.”

Opening her eyes, Imelda took in the sight of Héctor cautiously approaching her. “Are you alright? You seem a little…?”

“Pissed off to the highest degree?” she replied tiredly.

Héctor winced. “I was going to say upset but I guess that works too.”

Imelda sighed and shifted the sunflowers closer to her, trying to conceal her face behind the petals. “ _Sí_  …it does work. I’m a little bit stressed. If you can’t tell.”

“I can tell.”

“Oh.”

“Ernesto’s looking for us. Do you want to come out or…?”

Imelda rolled her eyes. She wanted to blame everything on Ernesto but doing so only conjured images of her Mamá demanding her to grow up and take the initiate. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself. Especially if it involves men. Imelda felt like she was going to be sick, but she hastily brushed a lock of hair back (scratching her skin in the process) and blurted out, “Héctor, won’t you kiss me?”

Héctor froze and stared at her. “What?”

Imelda’s ears grew hotter than her previous anger. She was going to make up a dozen or so excuses but it was though her brain was travelling in a horse carriage suddenly steered off course into the wild. “It’s just – I only have so little time with you and I need to make sure this day wasn’t a complete failure and I’m only one girl, there’s only so much I can –”

There wasn’t much else to add and if Imelda had been allowed to continue, she would have spoken gibberish but luckily for her, she didn’t. Héctor bent down and gave her a quick peck on the lips instead. She could smell the sunflowers as they were pressed to her chest and felt Héctor’s rough fingerprints as he caressed another lock of hair away, and, best of all, she managed to hear Ernesto swear upon rounding the corner and finding them.

…on the second thoughts, Héctor’s tongue tracing her lips was  _far_ better.

~o0o~

_Months later…_

“Ernesto, do you think Imelda likes me that much?”

“…it’s your wedding day, you moron.”

“I know but …”

“That’s it, I can’t handle you today. I’m going home.”

“This is my wedding! You stay  _right here_.”

Ernesto stayed but by the flat look the bride gave him when she arrived, it was obvious he should have escaped while he had the chance. However, after a few too many drinks, the newly made wife and her cool demeanour towards him was  _really_ starting to annoy him. Ernesto almost stumbled into her as he said, “Don’t think for a second that you’ve won him. He’s still my …”

“…Your…?”

“…songwriter. My songwriter. Couldn’t – couldn’t think of the word.”

“If you insist,” Imelda answered dismissively.

 “I do.”

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_!”

~o0o~

_More months later…_

Imelda was a young woman of dignity, thank you.

Her skirts were not easily loosened nor her heart quick to stammer under the gaze of men, so she sat patiently on her bed waiting for her husband of five months to return home, in no way desperate for his hands to slide along her skin or to feel his lips against hers or …or …

…Who was she kidding?

Reclining back into the bundle of pillows, Imelda kicked her legs out and sighed. The rain outside fell softly as if it was trying to soothe her. It wasn’t working. She blew strands of hair out of her frowning face. He was late. She knew exactly who was responsible for that and she had no clue what to do. Ernesto hung around her marriage like a bad smell ruining an otherwise lovely dinner. Héctor only saw a dedicated childhood friend but Imelda saw an interruption, an inconvenience, a royal pain in the –

Imelda heard the sound of front door open downstairs and thanked every saint that Héctor was finally home. She considered getting up to meet him, but a sneaky thought crossed her mind. With a growing smile, Imelda stood and rolled up the nightdress in her hand until her legs were on full display, with only a hint of her underwear showing. She heard footsteps approaching the bedroom and rushed to the door. She poked her leg out, using her free hand to run it up her thigh.

“Héctor,” she smoothed her voice out so it sounded like honey. “How kind of you to finally –”

“– what the  _fuck_?!”

Imelda’s heart leapt to her throat at the foreign voice. She yelped loudly, slammed the door shut and raced for her dressing gown. She then bolted back to the door to yell through it, “What are you doing here?! Where the hell is Héctor?!”

On the other side, Ernesto spluttered in disbelief.

“Did someone call me?”

Dressed more modestly, Imelda threw open the door to address her husband. “What is  _he_  doing here?!” She noticed Ernesto confusingly looking back and forth between the floor to her legs.  _Fuck!_  

Héctor raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Ernesto. “What is wrong with you? I told you wait downstairs.”

Ernesto shrugged. “Come on, this is practically my house too.”

“No! It isn’t. Get the hell out of here,” Imelda snapped. She turned sharply, directing all her anger to her husband. “And you! Did you forget our discussion before?!”

“Discussion?” Héctor asked, puzzled.

Even married, Imelda was this close to giving up. “ _Sí_. Before. You. Left. I made my intentions  _very well known_.” How much more direct could she have possibly been? Hugging your husband from behind and pressing your breasts against him, asking for some real fun after the party, was the closest Imelda could get without outright screaming what she wanted.

Ernesto groaned. “That is way too much information.”

“Who asked you?!” Imelda spat, her face burning with embarrassment. “Leave already!”

She heard Héctor try to apologise but Ernesto’s mocking grin caught her attention.

“I was invited back for a drink,” Ernesto said, leaning against the wall like a smart-ass. “I’m staying right here. Not my fault Héctor wanted my company over yours.”

“What?!” Imelda reached for her slipper.

Héctor sighed and shook his head. “Hang on. I didn’t say – wait, please, don’t hit him.”

Imelda pointed her slipper to Héctor instead. “What did you say then?”

“I said, why don’t we all hang out. Together …” Héctor frowned at the two of them. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Yes,” they said, both sounding offended at the mere notion.

Héctor looked at them with disappointed, like a parent unhappy with their child’s juvenile behaviour. “Really?  _Really_?”

Imelda was suddenly haunted by her Mamá’s calls for maturity. She quietly returned her slipper to her foot.

“Why don’t you go back to bed Imelda?” Ernesto’s voice cut through the silence. Imelda gritted her teeth and he continued. “I’m sure you need to catch up on your beauty sleep. Let the grown-ups have some time together.”

“Ernesto  _no_ ,” Héctor muttered, shaking his head.

Imelda scoffed, then said, “Running your mouth off as usual. Go on home already. Héctor and I don’t need you here.”

Héctor tiredly rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t  _say_  that either.”

“Ha!” Ernesto yelled triumphantly.

Fuming, Imelda whirled to her husband. “Then what did you mean?! Why would you want his company when I’m all you need?”

“You  _are_  perfect but –”

Ernesto clicked his tongue, sounding far too pleased with himself. “– Let me spell it out for you, since you’re clearly in denial.”

“No, Ernesto leave it.”

“No, no, no, she needs to hear this. Imelda, listen. Héctor’s just too nice to admit it so I’m going to do everyone here a favour and say it. I am better at fucking him. I always have been. You simply can’t compete.”

There was a silence as Imelda stared at him in disbelief. Beside her, she saw Héctor’s jaw had dropped. Seeing Héctor’s reaction made Ernesto’s smirk falter but he forced it to remain where it was, brimming with confidence at his declaration. Imelda hoped the idiot didn’t think she was ignorant about their previous ‘relationship.’ She wouldn’t have married a man dishonest with her and understood when the flames of desire got too much to wait for marriage (so did Josefina),  _however_  …

Imelda sent a fiery glare at her husband. “Héctor?”

Héctor fell back down to Earth and stammered, “No,  _no_! Ernesto, I  _did NOT_ say that! Imelda, we haven’t – Ernesto and I  _haven’t_  for a while. Not since you and I started courting. Before that even. I swear, I would never do that to you!”

Judging by the disgruntled look on Ernesto’s face, Héctor was telling the truth. Pleased that her husband’s loyalty was intact, Imelda confronted her real target. Coldly, she hissed, “You wish you could fuck him better than me. I play Héctor better than you can play your stupid guitar.”

Ernesto reacted as though he was slapped. “Please. How do you think I got so good at playing?”

Héctor released a frustrated sigh as he shoved himself between the two of them, “Look. Let’s be fair here. I’m not that hard to please so can we stop with this pointless competition and –?”

Imelda pushed back against her husband’s hand and argued, “What are you talking about?!”

At the same time, she heard Ernesto say loudly, “You are very difficult to please!”

“I work very hard to make you scream,” Imelda insisted. “Have some respect!”

“I’m just particularly good at fucking you!” Ernesto added.

Héctor retreated from their yells, palms raised in defence. “ _Calmese, calmese_. I wasn’t saying anything against you two. I know you both …work very hard. It’s just, you both know my weakness so I’m not really a challenge. I never have been.”

Begrudgingly, Imelda internally admitted that Héctor was always eager to try out everything without much complaint. Whenever she wanted a new way to spice up their sex life, she barely had to get a word out before Héctor was waiting to try it out, falling back onto their bed, splaying out like a star-fish and exclaiming, “Go for it!” It made her smile just thinking about it. A real smile. But it twitched with annoyance when Ernesto continued to speak as though he mattered.  

“Stop being modest Héctor. You’re a real challenge and I –”

“– and all you do is disappoint,” Imelda said firmly. “You’re nothing but hot air and –”

“– what is your problem?!”

“You’re my problem!”

As Imelda raised her voice to match Ernesto’s, she barely heard Héctor call them idiots under his breathe before he exclaimed with forced casualness, “You know what a true test of your skills would be?”

That halted the argument. Ernesto and Imelda waited, ready to give anything Héctor requested.

Héctor sheepishly rocked on his heels as he answered, “You two are just …so good at what you do that  _maybe_  you’d …want to …test …each other?”

Imelda guessed what he was going to say before she finished, his voice trailing off awkwardly as he noticed her eyes widening with abhorrence. What an abysmal thing to suggest. Ernesto only realised what was being said once Héctor finished his sentence. He couldn’t find his voice though, a miracle in Imelda’s opinion. It was just too bad the statement that caused this miracle was hurting her brain too.

“I’m serious,” Héctor began again, trying to smooth things over. He gestured between the two of them. “You’re both so competitive so I’ve always wondered…”

“…wondered what?” Imelda asked, briefly glancing at Ernesto.

Héctor twisted locks of his hair between his fingers as he said, “…I’ve wondered …who …would …come first?”

As though the cold rain outside had managed to get in and splash over Imelda and Ernesto, they broke out of their horrified daze. Imelda snorted while Ernesto chuckled wearing a sneer.

“She would be so easy –”

“He’d squeal like a pig from one touch –”

Their voices ceased at once, then skyrocketed for round two.

“What?” Ernesto blurted out. “I am not that sensitive!”

“Who are you calling easy?!”

“I can’t believe you two sometimes,” Héctor sighed.

Imelda told him to shut his mouth then threw at Ernesto all the insults and names she had written out on a long,  _long_  list, built up after knowing him for far too long. Apparently, Ernesto had been harbouring the same frustrations. Never had Imelda been so offended in her entire life, but it made her feel warm and fuzzy knowing she had the same effect on Ernesto. They were still as powerful as the storm outside, thunder crashing and lightning sparking, at each other, all while their little sun probably wished he loved smarter people.

Just as things were getting particularly heated, when Imelda made a remark about Ernesto’s size compared to Héctor’s, Ernesto nearly pulled out his hair, then shoved the bedroom door open and pointed inside. “Get in. Get in there  _now_. I’ll show you how bloody great I am.”

A part of Imelda was disgusted at the thought of Ernesto touching her, but a bigger part was keen to ruin him. Enthusiastically she strolled on in and mockingly waved her boys to come in noticing their hesitance. “You’ve always thought too highly of yourself, Ernesto. I can’t wait to destroy that ego of yours.”

Ernesto stormed into the room. “You’re going to beg for my dick.”

“How can I when there’s nothing to beg for?” Imelda turned to Héctor as Ernesto boiled red, and called, “Come closer,  _mi armor_. I’m going to make you scream louder than Ernesto ever could.”

Héctor helplessly smiled and closed the bedroom door. Ernesto tore away the pillows off the double bed and grumbled, “Just you wait. I’m going to make both of you my bitches.”

Soon enough, the three of them were in the midst of their competition. Not that any of them were complaining about it.

~o0o~

The following morning found Imelda gradually awaken to the peaceful sound of rain. She stretched and groaned. When she opened her eyes, she met Ernesto’s. Between the two of them was Héctor, still fast asleep and tucked close to their bodies. Ernesto was still an utter bore even after the (amazing) sex last night, so Imelda focused on Héctor and how he was perfect in every way. Just like he had done many times to her, she tucked strands of hair out of his face and some behind his large ears.

“He is particularly cute…”

Imelda’s hand stilled at Ernesto’s whisper. It sounded so different to everything else he had ever said, vulnerable she would dare call it. Imelda nodded and forced herself to look at Ernesto again. Both quickly felt uncomfortable at the change of atmosphere and fell back into their old and familiar routine.

“I told you I’d destroy you.”

“Please, who was it that came first again?”

“…it  _wasn’t_  me. That was Héctor.”

“But after that. Admit it. Now.”

“No. Get off your high horse and just –”

The two squabbled some more until the youngest in their arms shifted and blearily opened his eyes. “You two really need to just …” Héctor’s tired voice collapsed into a yawn.

 _Shit, he’s so cute_ , ran through Imelda’s mind (not realising Ernesto shared the same thought, word for word).

Héctor rolled over onto his stomach, shutting his eyes again and said with a wide smile, “I was starting to think we’d never reach this point. I spent  _ages_  trying to get this to work.”

…

What?

Imelda and Ernesto shared a look, then glared at Héctor.

“Excuse me?”

“ _What_  did you say?”

Propping his face up by the chin in his hand, Héctor’s smile grew larger. “Is there a problem? I thought things went pretty well last night after I finally got you in here. Months of planning  _finally_  payed off.” He sighed with content and laid down again.

Above him, Imelda and Ernesto stewed over the revelation and felt like enormous idiots. Once again, they looked to each other. And in that moment, they felt a connection for the first time, a real connection, where they could relate to each other. As though walls were crumbling down, they were able to communicate silently only through facial expressions and they both came to same the conclusion.

The next few moments found Héctor sandwiched between them, Ernesto’s dick right up in his ass, and Héctor’s inside Imelda. She leaned forward, working with Ernesto to make Héctor plead for release, and whispered to him, “Come on,  _mi amor_. Scream for us.”

Héctor cocked his head and smirked. “That was the plan, you idiots. Now get working.”

**Author's Note:**

> OT3 deserves more love and that is fact. Thanks for reading ;)


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